Chapter 121: The Princess's Tears (II)
Chapter 121: Chapter 120 – The Princess’s Tears (II)
Victorio, the Maester of Harrenhal, looked at the dwarf girl before him with a calm, yet somewhat sad look. He walked with slow steps and said to Miria, “The princess has refused to eat or drink.”
Miria just remained silent. She touched the letter in her hand and showed a trace of helplessness. The letter had arrived at a terrible time. However, looking at the wax seal with House Targaryen’s crest, she knew it was a letter from King Jaehaerys.
If the prince wasn’t at the castle, the highest authority in the castle was the prince’s wife, Princess Gael. However, since the princess wasn’t in any condition to act as Lady of Harrenhal, the letter couldn’t be opened.
“It’s already been a day,” Miria said in a worried tone. She knew exactly what a day without eating or drinking did to a person’s body. Hunger was the worst of problems, but it was really the deep depression and feeling of loneliness that were the true problem.
“The raven has already been sent to Dragonstone, but it takes some time to reach the prince’s hands, that is, if the prince is at Dragonstone.” Victorio said, looking at the castle window. The view of the God’s Eye was quite impressive, but there was no beauty at all in the maester’s eyes.
The dwarf showed a look full of helplessness. Just as Victorio said, it would take time for the prince to return to Harrenhal.
Miria looked at the castle’s black walls and felt a chill. She had mocked the rumors that the castle was cursed, but, at this moment, this castle seemed like a huge mouth devouring everything inside it.
“Maester Victorio, ask the cooks to prepare soup with the best smell possible; I’m going to try to get the princess to eat again.” Miria said, looking at the Maester with a look full of gratitude. If it weren’t for this man, she wouldn’t know how to manage the entire castle, which was Gael’s duty.
Victorio looked at the woman and saw a cut on her temple, the result of her earlier attempt to bring food to the princess. He showed a look of admiration and nodded. The woman was a loyal vassal.
“Just be careful,” Victorio said.
Miria shook her head and touched the cut on her temple. She didn’t feel anger or resentment toward Gael. The princess was devastated by the loss of her not yet born child. Any attempt to pry her hand away from her child’s body was like trying to poke a lioness protecting her cubs.
Suddenly, Miria saw Maester Victorio stop; he seemed to be staring fixedly out the window. Following his gaze, the trained spy saw a gigantic platinum dragon crossing the sky like a platinum arrow.
Miria’s eyes widened, but she soon showed a happy expression.
–
Bahamut landed on the ground with a thunderous crash. Dust rose and the ground shook. The gigantic dragon lay down on the ground while his powerful chest rose and fell at an extremely rapid pace. He panted through his nose, exhaling a cloud of smoke and sulfur.
To reach Harrenhal, the dragon hadn’t stopped for even a moment and had advanced extremely fast all the way to the castle.
Maekar undid the belt and slid down the dragon’s wings and touched the ground. He looked at the exhausted dragon with an apologetic look and ran toward the entrance of the castle.
The gates were already open, and Maekar advanced with quick steps through the castle’s corridors and stairs. Then, in the corridor that led to his room, he saw Miria and Victorio walking side by side. Both moved toward him.
“We’ll talk later,” Maekar said to both of them as he moved toward his room. Nothing was as important to him as Gael at that moment.
Victorio and Miria looked at each other but didn’t follow the prince.
On the other side, Maekar had already gently opened the door and entered his room. The atmosphere of the room was terribly silent, heavy, and suffocating. Looking at Gael’s ladies in waiting, Maekar gestured for them to leave the room, and they did.
Maekar, now alone, looked at the figure crying beside the bed, with a tightness near his heart. Although he too suffered from what was happening, it was much worse for the mother, who had carried the child in her womb, feeling him grow.
Walking over to Gael, Maekar touched his wife’s shoulder and said in a gentle tone, “Gael.”
Gael, who had been crying, stopped for a moment and looked back with swollen eyes full of tears. She sniffled and looked at Maekar with a desolate, sad expression.
“Maekar… our son… he…” Gael tried to speak but cried and sniffled between words, making it hard to understand, but Maekar understood perfectly what she was saying.
Bringing his wife into his arms, Maekar embraced Gael and gently kissed her forehead. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and spoke in the gentlest, softest tone possible. “It wasn’t your fault; I won’t blame you, and no one will.”
Maekar knew Gael was probably blaming herself for what happened. Which was normal; any woman in a similar situation would have the same thought. Maekar wanted to show Gael she wasn’t at fault for anything and that no one would judge her for it.
In Maekar’s arms, Gael cried even harder, not a quiet cry but a loud, clear cry, as if she were purging all the guilt, fear, and resentment she had built up until that moment.
After crying for some time, Gael practically collapsed in Maekar’s arms but still held the white cloth against her chest, never letting it go.
“Let me hold him,” Maekar said, looking at Gael. He wanted Gael to rest and finally sleep.
However, to Maekar’s surprise, Gael shook her head and refused with a sad but determined look. “You shouldn’t see him; you’ll hate him.” She said, in a tone strangely full of guilt.
Maekar felt something was wrong. Gael wasn’t reluctant to part with the child, but she didn’t want him to see something.
“Gael, he’s my son; I could never hate him,” Maekar said in a gentle tone, always keeping his voice low.
Gael hesitated, but, seeing his eyes, she remembered that this was the man she trusted with her life. After hesitating again, she reluctantly handed over the white cloth, which wrapped a small body.
When Maekar touched the cloth, he sensed, through the fabric, that something was wrong, but, not wanting to show that something was wrong, he kept his sad expression.
After unwrapping the white cloth and revealing the baby’s body, Maekar’s eyelashes trembled subtly at what he was seeing; he reached out and gently touched the sparse silver hair, sliding his finger over the golden scales growing on his son’s cheek.
Yes, scales.
The baby, before Maekar, was horribly deformed, covered in scales resembling those of a dragon. He had a stump of a tail at his tailbone and small leathery wings, like a bat’s. However, his expression seemed serene, as if he hadn’t suffered any pain, just sleeping.
Maekar lowered his head and gently kissed his son’s forehead and touched his forehead to the baby’s forehead.
Seeing this, Gael just cried silently. An enormous weight lifted off her shoulders. She had thought she would be rejected, treated with distrust, or even cast aside by Maekar.
What man could accept a woman who gave birth to a monster?
Suddenly, Gael heard a song sound through the room. She raised her head and, with eyes full of tears, saw Maekar singing to their son:
“Drakari pykiros
Tīkummo jemiros
Yn lantyz bartossa
Saelot vāedis.”
(Translation: Fire breather
Winged leader
But two heads
To a third sing.)
“Hen ñuhā elēnī:
Perzyssy vestretis
Se gēlȳn irūdaks
Ānogrose.”
(Translation: From my voice:
The fires have spoken
And the price has been paid
With blood magic.)
“Perzyro udrȳssi
Ezīmptos laehossi
Hārossa letagon
Aōt vāedan.”
(Translation: With words of flame
With clear eyes
To bind the three
To you I sing.)
“Hae mērot gierūli:
Se hāros bartossi
Prūmȳsa sōvīli
Gevī dāerī.”
(Translation: As one we gather
And with three heads
We shall fly as we were destined
Beautifully, freely.)
Maekar sang softly, as if he wanted his son to hear his voice wherever he was, the only thing he could do in this moment of mourning.
“I’ll take care of your mother. Go in peace, son,” Maekar whispered, covering his son’s body with the white cloth once more.